


Crazy Train

by Trifoliate_undergrowth



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Road Trips, bones - Freeform, general death awareness, lowkey goth hermann, the intimacy of being sleep deprived together, the intimacy of sharing music, vulture culture newton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoliate_undergrowth/pseuds/Trifoliate_undergrowth
Summary: Hermann accepts the offer of a free ride to the airport, hoping it’ll give him a chance to get acquainted with one of his new colleagues; but he regrets this decision the second he meets Newton. This is going to be unendurable. But as it turns out, Newton has a surprising ability to grow on you with time. Or maybe that’s just the sleep deprivation talking.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler & Hermann Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Crazy Train

**Author's Note:**

> This gets double soundtrack. Newton music playlist:   
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJh3XnwJzAZdrT7hrkT3G0_xOJNV7mlTC   
> Hermann music playlist:   
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJh3XnwJzAZd-Jg7616kF6sTaS6Y7Yl60

It was as hard for Hermann to decide when exactly he’d first seen Newton as it was for him to decide when (or, you know, _why_ ) he’d fallen for him. Maybe the first time he’d seen him was in the stark color of dashboard lights under a barely-greying morning sky, but then he’d first _really_ seen him at a gas station, where the clearer lighting showed an equally tired and energetic expression, and then again, as the sun came up, he saw more and more details—tired eyes, shaky hands, the intricacy of the patterns tattooed on his arms and chest. Then, of course, the first time he’d _technically_ seen Newton was on the personnel roster; when Newton offered him a ride he’d looked him up out of curiosity—huge smile, huge glasses, horrible disheveled hair (oh excuse me they call it _sexy_ and _tousled_ these days don’t they? _Ugh_ ) and a babyface somehow not matured by the carefully-cultivated stubble that he’d probably hoped made him look a bit tougher. Or, as he soon found Newt would have called it, “edgier.” He liked things that were “edgy”. Like scalpels, presumably. And noisy music.

He might not have been impressed with the roster mugshot but it was impossible to not be intrigued by his accomplishments. He’d hoped (as Newton probably had, too, in his own weird little way) to use the travel time to get to know one of his new colleagues early, maybe make a friend? At least an acquaintance that didn’t dislike him? High hopes.

Well, the first thing that happened was that Newton claimed he was going to be by to pick him up at 5AM, which was, first of all, much earlier than necessary, and second of all, _5AM_?? But he was up and waiting outside at the agreed-upon time, to witness a stunningly empty street under a completely silent predawn.

It was chilly. He buttoned his coat and shoved his hands in his pockets.

If the man wasn’t here in five minutes he was going back inside, a ride to the airport wasn’t worth this. He tried to distract himself from the cold by dragging the toe of his shoe along the crack in the sidewalk, barely noticing when a beat-up light blue car turned onto the street. Seemed it wasn’t as deserted as he’d thought out here. He pitied anyone who had to work this early, or was coming back from work this early—or had gotten up at this time to go to the airport rather needlessly early (it was fine, it was a free ride and you were supposed to be early for international flights anyway, there was so much that could go wrong). The thing was,

“Hello handsome stranger! Need a ride?” yelled an incredibly loud voice suddenly at very close range and he jumped, not even processing what had been said for a couple seconds because he was too busy trying to comprehend the fact that the car had stopped and the window was down.

“ _What_?” he said.

“Nevermind,” said the man in the car now in front of him, with the crestfallen attitude of a devoted prankster watching a joke completely fail to land. “Uh, hi, I’m Newt? …Newton? Dr. Gieszler?”

Hermann realized he was still staring at the man like he was from outer space and forced himself to speak. “You’re Dr. Gieszler.”

“I’d prefer it if you called me Newt but yeah, hi! Dr. Gottlieb? Hermann?”

“I’d prefer Dr. Gottlieb.”

“Right.”

Dr. Gieszler— _Newt_??—that didn’t feel right—got out of the car. He was wearing a T-shirt. In the cold. Just the T-shirt. No coat. He seemed fine with that. And his blue jeans were more holes than jeans, so it wasn’t like his legs were staying warm either. “Need some help with—”

“No, thank you, I’m alright,” he said, scooting his suitcase away from Newton’s hand. To his credit he didn’t try to insist, but walked him to the trunk, which he manually opened with the key.

“The trunk-open-y button doesn’t work,” he explained as Hermann struggled to hoist his bags into the deep, crypt-like opening of the trunk, which smelled like dead leaves. Besides what he assumed were Newton’s bags there was a rolled-up tarp that smelled faintly of bleach, a roll of chicken wire, several bricks, a shovel, and a cardboard box with “biohazard containment uwu” handwritten on it in teal sharpie. It was partly open and it looked like it contained plastic bags, but he couldn’t tell anything more than that. “You sure you don’t need—”

“ _No_ , thank you.” He settled his bags as far away from Newton’s bags (and… other objects) as he could.

Newton just stood there expectantly for a moment, hand resting on the trunk as if making sure it stayed open. “Is that all you’re bringing?” he asked finally.

“Yes. I thought it’d be easier to replace the big things when I got there.”

“Okay, that makes sense.” Newton stepped back, prepared to close the trunk lid, and Hermann, looking at the shape of it, was reminded about one of his first questions. The last time he saw a car with this flat, shoebox rectangle shape it was being displayed as an antique.

“So how old is this car?”

“Oh jeez uhhh I think it’s from like 2000? 2001?”

“What!?”

“Yeah and it’s still holding up great!” said Newton, attempting to close the lid of the trunk by grabbing a piece of the molding and yanking down. The trunk closed, but the piece came off in his hand. “Um,” said Newton, attempting to stick it back on—the piece that had come off was the car name, which said “Grand Marquis”, except it had now snapped in two between the two words. After a few seconds of frantic fumbling Newton gave up and put the pieces in his pocket. “That’s not important,” he said.

Maybe not, but it didn’t make him feel any safer. He started to wonder if he should just back out of this. He’d have to ask Newton to re-open the trunk for him, but he could do that. He hadn’t gotten in the car yet.

“Anyways,” said Newton, brightly, “Did you get some sleep? I always have trouble sleeping the night before a trip, too exciting.”

“So you’re sleep deprived,” said Hermann, feeling less safe by the second.

“Every day,” said Newton, “but like I’m also hyped up on adrenaline so I’m decently awake and is that door not opening?”

“It’s not.”

Newton aimed the key fob at the door and clicked it a few times. “Nothing?” He opened his door and pressed a button on the car interior. “…No? Okay, hang on,” he sat in his seat and reached across to pull up the old-fashioned manual lock on the inside of the passenger’s side window. The lock clicked back and Hermann opened the door. “Sorry about that sometimes the doors don’t respond to button either.”

“What else about your car doesn’t work?”

“Oh, nothing _important_! Which is why it’s a great car!” said Newton, shifting into drive.

Hermann watched the houses start to move by them and realized with a sick feeling that this was it. He was committed. He was in the car and he hadn’t backed out. He took a deep breath.

Well, what’s the worst that could happen (death. The answer was always death. He could and quite possibly would die in a fiery car crash. And it wouldn’t even be his own fault.) One way or the other (barring a premature, fiery death of course) he was getting to Hong Kong and this was exciting and he was not letting Newton Gieszler (and the looming possibility of their premature deaths) spoil that for him.

They pulled onto the highway and the car immediately began to make an alarming rattling noise.

“Oh yeah it does that sometimes,” said Newt. “I normally just turn on the radio and drown it out. Helps me stay awake too. You good with that?” Hermann agreed, cringing a little as he wondered what Newton’s music taste was. Then again, he rarely enjoyed listening to the radio at all. It was generally more high-energy heterosexual party music than he had the patience for. But they did need to stay awake somehow.

“Go ahead.”

“Cool, uh, feel free to switch the station if you don’t like it, I don’t even remember what I’ve got it on.” Newt pressed the on button and the car was immediately filled with the most offensively loud rock music Hermann had ever heard, to which Newt’s reaction was “Oh HELL yeah!” and to start wiggling around in his seat. Was he dancing? He was dancing. Okay. What was this? It felt vaguely familiar. He felt like it was famous? He’d definitely heard it somewhere before. It was one of those Songs You Couldn’t Escape Hearing At Some Point but he’d never actually paid attention to it because the voice was unbelievably annoying. Was it _supposed_ to be unlistenable? Apparently not, because Newton seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. What the _hell_ was the singer saying? After listening in silent, confused fury for a while he barely caught the words “back in black”, which sounded vaguely familiar.

Oh no. Newton was singing along, mimicking the singer’s screech. Mimicking decently well, actually. Which meant there was double the amount of soul-nails-on-chalkboard going on in the one car.

And he could still faintly hear the alarming rattling noise when he tried to tune the singing out.

Okay. Are you going to change the station while he’s so clearly enjoying it? No. You’re not. Because you’re a coward. And this man is giving you a free ride and also is sleep deprived and needs to stay awake and this _is_ keeping him engaged and energized. Hermann stared out the window and took deep breaths. There wasn’t much to look at out there—there was just enough predawn light in the sky to show the difference between the murky sky and the ground. There were no details in the landscape. He looked at Newton instead. He’d stopped dancing and was instead fidgeting with his fingers, tapping them on the steering wheel. He sat with one leg cocked up, knee almost touching the steering wheel, the other stretched to the gas. There wasn’t enough light to see anything else.

Hermann wondered if the power of his tiredness was enough to overwhelm the loud rock music and let him sleep. Probably not. He could try. He settled down in the seat and stubbornly closed his eyes.

The next few songs were better. Still not really his “thing”, but he was getting used to it, at least. He managed to slump into a sort of warm semiconsciousness in which he was clearly aware of the motion of the car and the songs on the radio but was almost asleep. He only fully woke when he heard Newton make a hissing noise, swear, and then quickly shut off the radio, the heater and the high-beams. Hermann opened his eyes. It was still dark, but he thought Newton looked worried about something.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh hey. Nothing. I mean, hopefully nothing. It’s just I was planning to get gas before I picked you up, but then I was almost going to be late.” (He was late.) “So then I was going to do it afterwards but I forgot. So we’re, uh, kinda dangerously close to empty.”

Hermann thought about the fact that he’d bothered the shut the radio off but they were driving at what felt like a pretty high speed.

“Doesn’t driving fast burn more gas than anything else?”

“I mean, yes, that’s probably true—”

“Definitely true.”

“—But if I slow down it makes me feel like we’re not moving fast enough? Because the faster we move the faster we find a gas station? Which might not actually make sense but uh, it makes sense in my head and it’s gonna drive me nuts if I have to actually slow down. So. We’re just gonna hope we hit one soon. We gotta, right? Wait, this is your area still, isn’t it? Do you know where—”

“I don’t drive, and if I did I wouldn’t come this way often. So no, I have no idea where a gas station is. Do you want me to look on my phone?”

“No, It’s fine. You never drive?”

“No. I couldn’t get my foot onto the brakes and went through a red light a few years back.” He’d coasted through at an agonizing crawl but it was still terrifying. The slow speed just gave him extra time to worry that everyone else on the road was staring at him, and anticipate being crashed into by someone who _hadn’t_ noticed he was there. Also, his mother was in the car. Screaming. He hadn’t driven since and had let his license lapse. “Decided to quit after that.”

“Eesh, guess that’s a good call.”

They drove in silence for a while. Aside from the looming threat of being stranded on the side of the road, this was nice. Why couldn’t Newton just leave the radio off?

“Oh there’s one!” said Newton suddenly.

It took Hermann a moment to identify what he was even talking about. There was a single light lurking in the darkness off the highway, which slowly resolved into a dimly-lit, dilapidated gas station as they drove closer.

“Newton. This looks like something from a horror movie.”

“Hey this car is too old for anyone to think it’s worthwhile murdering us.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. How badly do we need—” Hermann leaned over to look at the gas gauge. “…Alright.”

“Yyyyyep,” said Newton, coasting to a stop by one of the pumps and hopping out. Hermann locked his door and stayed inside, huddling deeper into his coat.

All of the sudden the silence was alarming rather than pleasant. He listened to the tick of the gas pump, glancing back and forth between the building barely illuminated beside them and Newton’s torso, which was about all he could see of him through the window. Newton’s shirt, he noticed, had one of those spiky-font metal band logos on it. They all looked the same to him and the font was too edgy for him to be able to read it, especially in the dim light. He thought it might say Metallica but maybe he was just seeing the word Metallica because that was the only metal band he knew by name.

Newton finished fueling and slumped back into the seat next to him without dying. He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Crisis averted,” said Newton, starting the car and immediately turning the radio back on. Hermann reflexively tensed his whole body. A deeply unpleasant song he’d later identify as _Man in the Box_ was playing. 

Newton nodded towards the building. “need anything?”

“From _there_?”

“I mean, yeah, it looks pretty shady. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Is it even—” Hermann realized that there was, in fact, an “open” sign in the door, belying the extremely abandoned, grungy appearance of the place. He visually checked that his door was locked (one good thing about Newton’s old-fashioned car. Easy to lock and double-check locks). “No. Let’s go.”

“Sounds good to me.” Newton shifted into drive and they finally started to move away from the Cursed Gas Station. “Might stop at a cleaner-looking one a bit later, though.”

“Cleaner and better lit? Fine by me.”

In a few moments they were back on the highway, and Hermann tried to relax. Surely they wouldn’t have more than one near-emergency in one trip. Oh, no, he’d just jinxed them hadn’t he.

He couldn’t sleep, so he made do with shutting his eyes and silently critiquing the songs on the radio. Borderline misogynistic song about heterosexual sex. Song he was pretty sure was about search dogs looking for a corpse?? (That one was actually interesting, he made a note to look it up later). _Actually_ misogynistic song about heterosexual sex. _Edgy_ song about going to hell. Song that was probably about masturbation. Hotel California, which he actually recognized and didn’t mind (he wasn’t sure which part of that was more surprising to him). DID YOU KNOW THAT BUYING OUR FLOOD, HURRICANE AND KAIJU INSURANCE CAN SAVE—

“Oh, hey, question,” said Newton, turning off the radio as the ads started. “We’re going to drive by some of damage left by Doggy’s inland run, and I was wondering—”

“Doggy?”

“Oh, yeah. Straydog. Took a pretty long walk into the countryside when—”

“Yes, Newton, I remember, everyone remembers.” Straydog was part of the reason for this drive to the airport being such an ordeal: it had taken out an airport with such excessively destructive force that there were no intentions of ever attempting to repair it, and the airport closer to Hermann in the other direction had closed sometime before that, also due (though less directly) to kaiju-related complications. The third best option was small and didn’t have intercontinental flights, so that left the fourth-best option, several hours away. “ _Doggy_?” he asked, confused.

“A nickname,” said Newton, almost… _affectionately_?

“Kaiju get nicknames?” said Hermann. He supposed it made sense, but it rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t even like giving them names in the first place, he felt it assigned too much personality to what were, and should be, blind forces of destruction bent on humanity’s annihilation, which humanity, in turn, should have no sympathy for. However, he understood that names were easier to remember and say for most people than numeral designations, for example.

“Oh yeah!” said Newton. “Hey, did you know that Doggy actually had six pairs of legs? Possibly more, but the Jaegers messed it up so bad it was impossible to get much information from it after it was dead. But there’s footage that shows it switching to using a new leg after injuring the one it had been using and you can definitely see that it had, like, a spare pair tucked up in there, at least, which—ANYWAY we’re going to drive by some of that damage and I wanted to stop and look at it, it’s right on the route so it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, do you mind?”

Was this what he’d gotten up early for? Kaiju disaster tourism??

“I suppose not,” he said dryly. “Only a few minutes?”

“Yeah! No worries I’ll be quick! I just really wanna see it in person!” Newton bounced up and down in his seat. Hermann abruptly remembered that this man had made studying the kaiju his _life_ , that that was why he was so good at his job and why he was being summoned to the frontlines with Hermann, and that such a fixation could hardly avoid making him a little… _interesting_ to talk to.

Not that Hermann ought to judge. But at least he didn’t soften his voice like he was talking about the neighbor’s new pet puppy when he talked about the specific force of destruction responsible for hundreds of deaths.

“So,” said Newton eagerly, “we call him Doggy but he actually had retractable claws, like a cat—”

“I don’t really care.”

“You don’t?” he sounded genuinely shocked.

Well, thought Hermann, it was important to learn all one could from the individual kaiju, in order to prepare for the next threats. He was about to concede this when Newton continued,

“But it’s so cool!”

Cool?

“ _Cool_??”

“Yeah!! Have you seen the skeleton? It’s absolutely unbelievable. I wish I could’ve seen him move, in person. I’m glad we have some recordings but they’re just not the same, you know?”

Hermann couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “How about we turn the radio back on?”

To his dismay, this wasn’t enough to make Newton stop talking about how “cool” the “doggy” had been. He just talked over the noise, which meant there were two auditory irritants at once and he couldn’t focus on either one without being distracted by the other. He was seething by the time he processed that Newton was driving directly towards a “road closed” sign with reflective barriers blocking both lanes.

“Um?” he said. Newton stopped the car, got out—still talking about kaiju biology facts that he neither understood nor wanted to understand—grabbed the barrier blocking their lane, dragged it far enough to one side to get the car around, and got back in. He was slightly out of breath but that wasn’t enough to prevent him from continuing his kaiju facts rant from right where he’d left off. Hermann, feeling like he was trapped in an absurd dream, watched the barrier scrape against one of the rearview mirrors as they drove around it.

“This is safe?” he said, interrupting.

“Oh yeah I can see where the cutoff is,” said Newton, blinking and squinting ahead. “I think.”

Hermann checked that his seatbelt was buckled. At least _those_ were working.

They passed a car lying upside-down in the ditch. Newton slowed, leaning forward to see the road better. At least it was getting lighter now, Hermann thought—it was just light enough to see where they were going.

…Had Newton planned this? Had he timed it so that he’d get here when there was enough light to see whatever it was he wanted to see? Was _that_ what Hermann had gotten up early for??

“Ha!” said Newton, and stopped the car abruptly. Hermann was pretty sure he could feel his organs bouncing around. But at least he had confirmation his seatbelt was working. _Ouch_. “Okay I’ll just be a second!” said Newton, grabbing a leather jacket that looked more like a fashion statement than a way of staying warm, bursting out of the car and practically sprinting forward down the road. He left his door ajar.

“It’s been a second already,” said Hermann to no one in particular, just to say it. A cold breeze was seeping into the car from Newton’s side. He swiped at Newton’s door. Couldn’t reach it. Snagged it with the handle of his cane and slammed it shut. That was slightly better. He debated turning the car back on so the heater would run. Was it worth the effort? It might be in a few moments. He got cold easily.

Looking ahead, he realized with a shock that Newton had completely disappeared.

He wondered how he’d explain to the PPDC that Dr. Gieszler had gone missing and he was stranded on the side of the road.

It was probably fine. He was probably down in the ditch looking at…. Whatever he wanted to see. Hermann looked from side to side and couldn’t see any movement. He counted to ten once, then again, and still couldn’t see anything. He groaned, turned up his coat collar, and got out of the car. He wobbled for a moment in the cold wind, his legs stiff from sitting in the car, and took a few moments to stretch and get his balance, then started walking in the direction Newton had disappeared in. From here, he could better see the damage Newton had been talking about: the road broke off in a chunk, slashed away by something with huge, sharp claws. He could see the road continuing on the other side of the hole. He stepped carefully as he got closer to the edge.

“Newton?”

He hadn’t been able to see him until then, but a sudden movement drew his attention to a shadowed part of the hole. Newton was down there, hands pressed to the bare earth, a manic grin on his face.

“Yeah I’ll just be a sec!” he turned back.

Hermann watched as he stood in this pit of destruction, running his hands over the earth, lovingly, as if touching a relic. Finally he climbed back up, getting dirt all over his jeans and shoes, dusted his hands off and set off back towards the car without a word of explanation.

“You came out here to look at a hole in the ground,” said Hermann, back in the now-chilled car, huddling furiously into his coat and rubbing his hands together.

“Absolutely,” said Newton. “It’s an important hole in the ground! The shape of it shows how Doggy moved, and the fact that he targeted roads shows a lot of intelligence, and possible training. It raises some interesting questions.”

“…Hm. Questions I’d rather not think about, personally.”

“Well that’s where we’re different.”

They drove back towards the highway they’d left. There was just enough light now to see the dirt on Newton’s clothes and under his fingernails and it made Hermann want to scream. Didn’t that feel gross? Didn’t he have little grains of dirt coming loose and rubbing against his skin? Wasn’t it drying on his hands and making them all crusty?? He left a smudge of dirt on the knob when he turned on the radio, just in time for the end of one song and the start of another—at which Newton jumped up in his seat.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it!”

“What? Did that—did you _just_ realize that?”

“No no it’s just hilarious they’ve been playing this, um, a LOT lately! Kinda funny, heh.” He took a deep breath.

“Oh it’s a song,” said Hermann, still confused.

Newton started singing and did not appear to have any intention of stopping. Hermann, after watching in increasing concern for a full verse, started to wonder if he could safely pull the car over if Newton passed out from not breathing.

“Teambyteamreporters (with visceral hatred) **DONALD TRUMP** (he stopped to breathe and missed about two lines of singing) uh-oh overflowpopulationcommongoodbutit’lldosaveyourselfserveyourself, world serves its own needs listen to your heart bleed, dummywiththeraptureandthereverendandtheright, _right_ vitriolicpatrioticslamfightbrightlight feeling! Pretty! _Psyched_! IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT AND IIIIII FEEEEEEL FIIIIIIINNEEEEE”

Hermann was pretty sure he felt his sanity snap like a frayed thread. He hated this and he was tired and wished he was asleep but also he wouldn’t have missed this for anything and he wanted to laugh (both at _and_ with him) and sing along but also he hated the song and he hated Newton for being so loudly awake but his energy was infectious and he was watching him race through the lyrics like it was a game show and he wanted to cheer every time he hit the end of a verse and took a deep gasping breath. Finally the song ended and Newton caught his breath and Hermann tried to reconcile himself to… whatever emotion he was experiencing right now.

“Anyways,” said Newton. “REM. Good song. Big fan of it being the unofficial soundtrack of the apocalypse. I’m definitely awake now,” wriggling his shoulders out of his jacket. “Hey can you help me get this off?” he held onto the steering wheel with one hand while trying to flail the other out of the sleeve; Hermann, not trusting this arrangement, instinctively grabbed at the steering wheel to steady it, then assisted in dragging the jacket off, which turned out to be a surprisingly tedious task. It was a narrow cut and once Newton had shrugged it off one arm and twisted it around, it got stuck on the other arm. Several agonizing seconds, which felt like hours, passed while Hermann tried to delicately assist in removing the jacket without actually touching Newton and Newton unhelpfully flapped the jacket around while steering with his other hand and zero progress was made. Hermann finally tugged it free and tossed it into the backseat with more force than necessary.

“Thanks man,” said Newton, stretching, _still_ not putting his other hand back on the wheel.

“Just keep this thing on the road, please.” 

“Oh, hey.” Newton cocked his head at a sign as they passed. “Wanna take this exit and check for, uh, less cursed stops? I wanna get an energy drink for later. I feel fine now but, you know, the sleep deprivation hits when you least expect it.”

“Right. …are you still warm?” he asked as he watched Newton turn the heat down.

“Uh, yeah. You’re not?”

“Do I look like it?” Hermann said, perhaps more peevishly than necessary, but really. How on earth was he too hot? Hermann still had his scarf on.

“Oh. Huh. OK well don’t let me freeze you.” He returned the heat dial to where it had been.

“ _Thank_ you.”

A short time later they rolled into a significantly newer and better-lit gas station. It still had an eerie deserted look, but that was probably because of the hour. Hermann got out to stretch his legs. If he was already this stiff the flight to Hong Kong would be unendurable.

“You want anything?” asked Newton, pushing the gas station door open with his shoulder and pausing to let Hermann walk past him. How was he able to do such polite things and make it look like an accident? Rather than feel awkward about making him hold the door Hermann was just annoyed at him for having such bad posture. That was refreshing.

“I don’t know. Maybe a coffee,” he said, attention straying away from what he was saying. Newton looked different now that he was seeing him in bright light, and what was on his arms?

“From here? Questionable, unless they have one of those nice little machines that makes it fresh for you. I mean we passed a McDonald’s they have decent-er coffee, I’d say. Um. …What?”

Hermann realized he was staring; had, in fact, barely restrained himself from putting his glasses on and leaning closer. Had Newton had tattoos this whole time? Did he really miss that?? It was dark, he was tired, he must’ve just assumed that the patterns on Newton’s arms were part of his shirt. They were not. (Also he had very nice arms.)

Oh. How was he going to salvage this? He couldn’t just admit that he hadn’t noticed the incredibly obvious tattoos up until now, and commenting on his arms would be so much worse!!

“You’re covered in mud,” he said, and internally sighed with relief. That was true and also a valid reason for staring at Newton.

“Oh geez yeah I am! Forgot about that haha. Lemme go dust myself off.” Newton disappeared into the bathroom. Hermann took the opportunity to squint intensely at the backs of his arms as he left. Full tattoo sleeves with what looked like monsters or—oh of course. Kaiju. Newton had the mortal enemies of humanity inked permanently into his skin. Hermann reflected that he really shouldn’t be surprised. He was, though.

Newton reappeared, significantly less grimy, a short while later and provided running commentary on the selection of energy drinks in the cooler as he tried to make a decision. “Nos is kind of weak on me, like it doesn’t last super long but it does have a balanced effect, Monster doesn’t hit me until an hour later I start _shaking_ , uh, Bang is fun? Gives me a light slap of energy and some mild heart palpitations and then goes away? Has a flavor called Rainbow Unicorn which tastes exactly what you’d expect a flavor called Rainbow Unicorn to taste like so that’s cool… I’m honestly kinda tempted by the Rainbow Unicorn just because of the name but it’s like, will this kill me or will it just do nothing to actually keep me awake… Think I’m gonna fall back on the Nos it’s the one I know actually works. But I am also getting a Monster just in case I am genuinely in danger of passing out.”

“Why didn’t you just… get more sleep before you left?” asked Hermann.

Newton laughed maniacally.

“That is a valid question and I have no idea my brain is a nightmare! Don’t look at the coffee, just because they have stale coffee sitting in the dispensers since who knows when does not mean you have to _buy_ the coffee. I’m driving to McDonalds while we’re here.”

At the McDonalds, Newton opened his door and leaned out.

“Let me guess, your window is broken?” said Hermann.

“Correct!”

“What a surprise.”

“Look, I’m gonna get it fixed, I just—”

“May I take your order?”

“HELLO YES large coffee two sugars one cream please and uhhh?” he looked at Hermann, whose mind went completely blank. Did he want to stay awake and have coffee or did he want to take a nap? He kind of felt like taking a nap, but he doubted he’d actually be able to sleep. Anyways, he’d said he was getting coffee and they were here and it would be weird if he didn’t. Maybe decaf? Would he actually be able to sleep if he tried? Should he try or just give up and have some real coffee to wake himself up?

“We need a minute,” said Newton.

Hermann sighed, the pressure to immediately come up with an answer easing somewhat. “Ah. You know I thought—”

“Take your time man I get it decision-making is hard.”

“…Small decaf.”

“And a small decaf! Decision made woooo.”

It still irked him that he’d frozen up at all. Why was such an arbitrary decision hard to make? It wasn’t until they were back on the highway and he took his first sip of decaf that he realized he hadn’t paid.

“Newton? How much do I owe you?”

“Huh? Oh nah it’s fine, McDonalds coffee costs like nothing.”

“Still.”

“Seriously I don’t even remember it was like a dollar, you got a small, it’s not worth the effort. Also I’m driving and if you hand me something right now I will either put it down and lose it forever or go off the road trying to put it into my wallet so I don’t lose it forever.”

“Alright, then, thank you.”

“No problem! Give me your firstborn child.”

Hermann smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a very long time.”

“Oh hey you know what I’ve wondered? If two witches promise their children to each other then what happens? Do they throw a double baby shower where they do a baby swap? Do they argue about who keeps which shower presents? Or do the debts cancel each other out? Maybe they should just get married and forget about the feud. Did I just speed-write fanfiction?”

“I think the fae should pull a heist on both witches, thus beginning a complicated baby-swapping war between the two factions. How did we get on this?”

“No idea. Radio?”

“Sure.”

Hermann resigned himself to the onslaught of loud noises. Instead the first song started gentle and reverb-y. He thought he might like it.

“Oh _nice_ ,” said Newt appreciatively, apparently recognizing the song. Newton liked it, then. Hermann would probably not like it.

_Seasons don’t fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun and the rain_

Oh nevermind he liked it. He pulled out his phone and surreptitiously made a note of the lyrics so he could look up the song later. Apparently Annoying Loud Music Channel had some hidden gems. Who knew?

Coasting down the still-mostly-deserted highway in the early dawn light, sipping a.. mediocre, not bad, cup of coffee and watching the countryside roll past while the music played he realized he felt better about their chances of surviving this war than he had in a long time. These fields that rolled past looked soft and sleepy and altogether normal.

“Hey this reminds me of my favorite song by them,” said Newton, lurching forward to pull his phone out of his back pocket (the car swerved alarmingly, but stayed under control). “Can you look up the Godzilla song by Blue Oyster Cult?” he asked, passing his phone to Hermann.

Well. The first song was good. Maybe this would be.

Newt’s phone was cracked, having been dropped on a corner. The background was a lightning fractal pattern of blinding blue on black that hurt his eyes. He found the song. He did not particularly like it, but Newton broke into a big grin.

_Ohhhh no! They say he’s got to go, go go Godzilla!_

“This is great, isn’t it?” asked Newt, bouncing in his seat.

“No,” said Hermann.

“Go go Godzilla!” Newton sang along, jerking back and forth in his seat. Dancing? Was he dancing? He was jiggling the steering wheel and making the car swerve is what he was doing.

“Do you think you could focus on driving properly?”

“Okay, okay.”

He turned the radio back on. Hermann’s coffee was getting cold, he finished it quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Newton jerk his head back.

“You alright?”

“Kinda sleepy.” He shook his head violently and blinked. “I think it’s a temporary thing, I’ll pull over if it gets bad. Oooof.”

“Isn’t the coffee helping?”

“Nah caffeine just chills me out. ADHD thing.”

“What?? Why drink it then?”

“Um it taste good,” said Newton, taking another sip.

“Tell me if I need to pass you the energy drink, or anything,” said Hermann.

“I will. Hopefully that won’t h—oh shit. Oh shit! Okay!” He banged on the steering wheel in excitement, recognizing a song on the radio. “Karaoke time! Should wake me up right?”

“What? Oh, okay?” Not again. What was this song? It sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t identify it. Newton was bobbing his head to the beat, obviously trying to psyche himself up, still looking a little out of it. He took a deep breath.

The vocals started, a woman’s voice. Newton cocked his head and matched the pitch perfectly.

_Cold late night so long ago, when I was not so strong you know  
A pretty man came to me, never seen eyes so blue  
You know I could not run away it seemed we’d seen each other in a dream  
Seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me_

Hermann was feeling… something. He tried to take a sip of coffee for the sake of something normal and distracting to do, realized his cup was empty, and felt foolish. He risked a glance to the side, and saw that Newt was getting really into the song, swaying his shoulders and gesturing with one hand. His voice perfectly caught the little raspy growl on the words,

“He’s a maaagic maaannnnn, he’s got magic hands.”

I’m gay, thought Hermann frantically. I’m so unbelievably gay. He tried to make an act of staring uninterestedly out the window but Newton’s movements were. Compelling. The song hit an instrumental part and he pursed his lips and danced, playing an invisible drumset with the hand not on the wheel. He did look significantly more awake now. That was good. This was good. He was feeling way too many emotions for this early in the morning. He tried to drink out of his empty coffee cup again.

“I feel better,” Newton clarified as the song ended. “Thank you Heart. Really gets the blood pumping HEYYYY. I didn’t even intend to do that. Nice.”

“Mm.” What is the heterosexual response to this? He didn’t think there was one. Fortunately the next song had started and Newton wasn’t paying too much attention to him. It was incredibly loud. Hermann didn’t particularly like it, but Newton seemed to be having fun singing along.

“It’s my liiiife, and it’s now or never, I ain’t gonna live forever, I just wanna live while I’m alive;” he grinned, belting the words “My heart is like an open highway!”

Hermann couldn’t help but smile a little at the wholehearted drama of it all.

“Nice soundtrack to the roadtrip huh?” asked Newton during a pause in the singing.

“You think so?” asked Hermann, smiling. It fit Newton, though he wasn’t sure about the experience of the trip itself. “Not, uh, what was that, one, Highway to Hell?”

“Oh come on!”

“Or the, uh. Going off the rails on a Crazy Train?”

“Stop, stop, I’m already dead! Come on it hasn’t been that bad has it?”

“Hmmm.”

“I’d accept that if I like drove into a lightpole or something, but this crazy train is staying on the road and following traffic laws! Except the speed limit. Sometimes. But like, _everyone_ drives about 5 over the speed limit, it’s an acceptable bending of the rules.”

“Sure.” Hermann settled back in his seat and pretended to be sleepy. Actually, it wasn’t much pretending, once he thought about it. He blinked slowly out at the highway stretching on into obscurity in front of them, the other cars, gleaming in the sunlight, keeping pace with theirs as they slid smoothly on towards that horizon. How much longer did they have? He realized he was losing all concept of time.

He half-woke (only then realizing that he’d been asleep at all) at the soft click, followed by blessed silence, of Newton turning the radio off. He looked over at him. The sun was properly up now, outlining his profile with a line of gold, catching in little flecks in the stubble on his chin. He was looking straight ahead at the road, hands steady on the wheel, tired but awake and Hermann suddenly realized that he loved him. He’d skipped right over the dismay, the denial; he was too sleepy for anything but a quiet recognition and acceptance. There was no sound but the quiet rush of the air outside and as he fell asleep again he stared at the sun-gilded shape of his face and thought, I love you. I love you. I love you.

He was woken abruptly by the car swerving to one side and a horn blaring. “No, YOU use your blinkers!” Newton said under his breath, then noticed Hermann sitting up. “Oh, geez, wake you up?”

“Ugh. What happened?”

“I’m not really sure but it was _not_ my fault! Look, there they go.” A car, moving much faster than any of the others, weaved through the narrow space between cars ahead of them. “Boy, someone’s an adrenaline junkie. What was in their coffee? Isn’t it a bit early for this?”

“Maybe they’re late for work.”

“I’d like to know where they work that they’d risk their life to get there. Anyways. Feel better?”

Hermann frowned. Yes but no. He felt better rested, but he ached from sleeping slumped in his seat. His leg was probably going to be cramping the rest of the day.

“No? Naps can get you like that sometimes,” said Newton.

Hermann stretched carefully, trying to force the stiffness out of his muscles. “Right.”

They rode in silence for a while. Hermann shifted around in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“If you wanna pull over and stretch your legs, we’ve got some time,” said Newton.

“No,” said Hermann reflexively, then silently cursed himself. Well. He’d just swallow his pride and say he’d changed his mind if he didn’t start feeling better in a little while. He stared out the window. They were nearing a city now. He tried to remember where they were on their route, if he’d ever been here. He couldn’t remember. Suddenly he realized they were taking an exit.

“We turn here?”

“Nah, pit stop. I need to pee.”

Good.

They stopped at a gas station and Hermann pretended to look at the candy while walking a few laps, successfully stretching some of the kinks out of his body.

“Hey, tell me when you’re ready to go,” said Newton, heading back towards the car. Did he even go to the restroom? Did he need to come in here at all? …sneaky. He didn’t think Newton was that observant. Or that nice. Oh no, he was going to convince himself that this _wasn’t_ an ill-advised crush that should not be acknowledged if he kept imagining that Newton did nice things, it probably _was_ just a coincidence. …right, aforementioned ill-advised crush. He was awake enough now to really process that and oh no. Oh dear. Please not again. The last time he fell for a fellow scientist the man left him behind to die in a kaiju attack, hoping he’d serve as a distraction. Newton, considering his obsession with them, would probably use him as bait in a ploy that would kill both of them. Don’t do this, Hermann!!

When he walked outside, Newton was pulling the car out of its space and he looked rough. Hermann momentarily wished he still had his license so he could offer to drive for a while, maybe pat him on the shoulder as he settled down in the passenger’s seat and give him a blanket they didn’t have. (Yeah we’re really doing well at not having a crush, good job Hermann.) I could give him my coat, he thought idiotically, then immediately _absolutely not I am still WEARING my coat because it is still COLD_. And also because this is a crazy scenario that won’t happen.

Newton had gotten trapped behind another car that was backing up. Hermann watched, at first impassively, then with steadily growing concern as the car didn’t seem to be stopping. Newton appeared to have zoned out, staring straight ahead, theoretically in the direction of the car, but Hermann wasn’t sure if he actually saw it.

“Newton?” he called, then realized it wasn’t loud enough for Newton to hear him. He appeared to have noticed the car, however, because he frowned and reached to shift, slowly, as if not sure he needed to. Because surely the car was going to stop. They were moving very slowly, and they had a clear view of Newton’s car, directly behind them.

They did not stop. They slowly backed right into the front of Newton’s car while he scrambled to shift into reverse. Hermann, idiotically, smacked at the still-moving car with his cane, which did nothing to stop it. Then, it stopped by itself, back fender buckled around the front fender of Newton’s car. After an awkward pause both cars slowly inched away from each other. Newton got out and made a silent “dude what the hell.” gesture. The other driver got out, smiling apologetically, and walked behind the car to look at the damage. His car, previously brand new, had gained a large dent on the back corner. Newton’s appeared to be spotless. Well—without any _new_ spots.

“Alright?” he asked Newton, remarkably casual.

“Uh. Yeah. You?”

“Sure.” He looked at the dent and shrugged. “I don’t care, you?”

“I, uh, nah? _My_ car’s fine—is. Is that it?”

The man got back in his car.

“Um. Okay,” said Newton.

The man drove away.

“…But genuinely are you okay sir because what the fuck just happened,” said Newton.

“Are _you_ okay?” said Hermann, joining him.

“Oh, yeah, he was barely moving, I didn’t even feel it. Seriously though, what _was_ that? Did you see? He just. Backed right into me.”

“I saw.”

“Absolutely insane. But, I mean, didn’t damage _us_. Good car,” commented Newton, looking down at the unscathed fender.

“No, we’ve just proved that your car wasn’t designed with the same safety specifications of newer cars, which crumple around the outside in a crash to absorb energy to better protect the passengers. Stronger _and more brittle_ doesn’t necessarily mean safer—” Hermann took a deep breath. No one cared. It was fine. They were fine. He thought a lot about car safety for someone who never drove. Cars were dangerous no matter what seat you were in! “Bad car,” he concluded.

“Good car,” said Newton, bending down to pat the fender lovingly.

That was infuriating and not at all endearing, Hermann told himself sternly.

Back in the car, Newton turned the air to cool. Hermann said “ _No_ ” and flipped it back to where it was. Newton sighed.

“You’re still cold?”

“Yes!”

“It’s warming up.”

“It hasn’t warmed up much yet!”

“Hm.” Newton stopped the car at the turn onto the road from the gas station. “I have a brilliant idea on how to solve this problem but you’re not allowed to complain about it.”

“I reserve my rights to complain about anything,” said Hermann suspiciously, one eye on the knob for the temperature. Newton didn’t touch it. Newton instead pulled his T-shirt up over his shoulders and wiggled out of it, grunting in dismay when his glasses came off with it and bounced into his lap. It took him several moments of squinting and patting around for them before they were back on his face.

“Lo and behold I am cool as hell,” said Newton, shifting into drive before Hermann could recover his voice. “Turn up the heat as much as you like. Problem solved?”

“Uhhuh,” said Hermann, trying not to stare.

“Great!” said Newton, adjusting his glasses and flipping on the radio. It was mostly static. “Aw darn we’re getting out of range.”

“Good riddance,” said Hermann.

“I’m sure this area has their own rock station,” said Newton with a horrid little grin, “I’ll just have to find it.”

Hermann gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Actually,” said Newton, “If you can find it, I’ve got a converter. You can hook your phone up to the cassette player and take over DJing if you want.”

“I’m sorry repeat that?”

“There’s a thing in the seatback pocket behind you if you can find it it’s shaped like a cassette tape with a long cord coming out, you plug it into your phone and play tunes through the car.”

“It converts—what—your phone to the _cassette tape_ player?? You can do that?”

“Oh yeah it’s pretty great! Wait hold on if I have to listen to your music you have to say one nice thing about my music first.”

Hermann, who’d just found the attachment, made a show of dropping it on the floor.

“ _One_ nice thing! It can be lazy as heck. “Good volume,” even.”

“It’s…” he sighed. “I liked the reaper song.”

“Ohhh shit don’t fear the reaper? Classic!! Wow maybe there is hope for you!”

“I disliked almost everything else I heard, don’t get too excited.”

“Almost everything? _Almost_? What else _did_ you like?”

“I didn’t dislike, uh… the one about the hitman, and the one about the corpse?”

“Uh. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I didn’t catch most of it. The one with the dogs searching for a corpse??”

“Ohhh Plush! And, uhh—Another One Bites the Dust?”

“I don’t think so, though Queen is good.” Queen, he thought, transcended genre, it was simply iconic. He may have had a bit of crush on Freddie Mercury as a teenager. “The, uh. When the bullet hits the bone?”

“Twilight Zone! Hey I think I know what you might like—”

“The agreement was that I’d get to pick the music!”

“—Later! Sure, whatcha got?”

…what did he have? Suddenly he felt self-conscious. He sighed. He’d put up with Newton’s music, Newton would just have to put up with his. He couldn’t overthink it or he’d never be able to pick anything. He put his library on shuffle. An AURORA song came up. Sure, that worked. He kept one nervous eye on the music and another, against his better judgement, on Newton. He was a sight to behold, tattooed skin gleaming in the morning sun. His arms and torso were decorated with kaiju rising from the waves, and Hermann with the last shred of his sanity refused to think that reproductions of the mortal enemy of humanity were _beautiful_ , but. The pattern suited him. He was lagging now, his fatigue showing in slowed movements, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. He ran a hand through his hair, only serving to mess it up more; the sun catching in little streaks of gold in the disheveled brown. He looked like he’d just woken up. It felt unbearably intimate seeing him like this.

“Who is this?” he asked suddenly, turning towards Hermann.

“I’m sorry?”

“The song. Uh, neat sound effects.”

“Oh! Cosmo Sheldrake, yes, he’s—he does interesting work. “Rich” has a cat purring and the sounds of someone working on a dead cow carcass.”

“Woah holy shit seriously? Play that I gotta hear the dead cow noises.”

“Alright, after this one.”

 _Rich_ reminded him of standing in a cold parking lot watching the sun come up after working on his equations all night, the first time he’d listened to it. He was glad Newton appeared to like it.

“Neat,” said Newton. “Um, almost too peaceful, though. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Oh I won’t let you,” said Hermann, queueing some faster songs. “Do you need me to pass you the energy drink? Slap you?”

“Nnnnooooo I’m fine. Thanks though,” he laughed.

“Tell me if you change your mind.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

They were getting close. The airport was on the other side of the city they were approaching. There was more traffic now, and Newton grimaced at the cars ahead of him as he was forced to slow down. Hermann watched him, but he seemed to be doing alright. He asked Hermann to check the time.

“Alriiight. Should have time for breakfast before I drop you off.”

“Do what?”

“Breakfast, cuz I’m hungry and airport food is overpriced.”

“No, what do you mean, drop me off? You’re not coming?”

“Oh! No, I mean yeah, yes I’m coming. Same flight as you I think. But uh I’m gonna drop my car off at the port first and Uber back.”

“Why?”

“I’m shipping it to Hong Kong.”

“You what.” Actually, this was a good point, he hadn’t thought about what Newton was doing with his car after they got to the airport. He could hardly leave it in the airport parking lot for the entire time he was with the PPDC. Or maybe he could. But that would be quite a parking bill to pay when he got back, assuming he ever did.

“I mean, I might need it while I’m there, you never know.”

“Is it even worth the cost of shipping it that far?”

“Sure it is! It’s a good car!”

“Alright.”

“Anyways, what else am I going to do with it? But yeah that’s why I left a bit of extra time, I was gonna drop you off at the airport before doing that, I hope you don’t mind just hanging out there for a little while. Sorry I didn’t explain that before.”

“Well, that explains some things. Yes, I’ll manage.” Airports were decently comfortable once you got through the hassle of security, and he liked the atmosphere. Everyone just passing through.

“And in the meantime,” said Newton, “Breakfast. Unless you want me to drop you off first—”

“No, I’m amenable to breakfast.”

“Sweet let’s find something I’m starving.”

He rather thought Newton would put his shirt back on as they got into the city, but he didn’t, not even when they’d parked near a diner. To Hermann’s shock, he got out and stood in the cold wind.

“Kinda chilly out here,” Newton commented. He touched his bare chest and looked down in confusion. “…Oh _yeah_.” He ducked back into the car, looking for his shirt.

“You _forgot_ you were half naked?”

“Shut up I’ve been driving for hours. Uh, did you see where I put my shirt?”

“I think it slipped down between the seats.”

“Oh thanks.” Newton wriggled back into it, concealing a majority of the tattoos. Hermann, now entirely past any pretense, watched the whole process sadly. His hips stayed visible longest before he tugged the shirt down, giving Hermann time to admire the two monsters peeking over the waistband of his jeans and wonder what the rest of them looked like. He blamed travel fatigue for his shamelessness.

They got a table together, ordered coffee, Hermann tried not to think about the sticky texture of the table, and for about five seconds everything was normal.

“So you like death huh” said Newton.

Hermann looked up in confusion and dropped a packet of sugar into his coffee, then fished it out.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I mean. Uh wow that was a weird way to say that! You like the songs about death huh?”

“I…yes?”

“Cool cool I have an articulated fox skeleton that I’m shipping to myself cuz I couldn’t stand to leave it behind do you wanna see it once it arrives?”

“A…?...huh… Interesting.”

“Yeah! I did it myself back when I was in college! Really gives you a close-up perspective on biology you know?”

“I imagine it would. Will it be alright with being shipped?”

“Ah geez I mean I’ve been worrying about that I sure hope so. I guess I could always fix it, I mean, I put it together the first time, but I probably won’t the time or materials once we’re there and I really hope it holds up cuz it looks SO COOL and I’ve never lived anywhere without it yet, I want to be able to display it.”

“So, you articulated it yourself—where did you get the bones?”

“Oh I found them near the woods on my uncle’s farm! A couple pieces are missing actually, it isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty intact for the circumstances and I’m real proud of it! That was my first vulture culture project!”

“Your what?”

“Uhh, hobby specimen collecting?”

“Wait, do you have more than one skeleton?”

“Not articulated no, and sadly I had to leave most of my bones in storage.” He frowned. “But I DO have a jar full of teeth, if you’d like to see it.”

“I… think I’ll pass for now, thank you.”

“Okay! You uh don’t have to look at it if you don’t want to. I just, it’s so cool that, like uh.” He gestured with his spoon, splashing coffee onto the table. “Bones, y’know? Like, we’ve all got them? Like I’ve got those inside me too and that’s gonna be all there is of me at some point I’m sorry is this too weird?”

“No, I agree, I don’t think you can really avoid thinking about death these days. I like to think I’m coming to terms with it, in my own way.” That was a fancy way of saying he was perhaps a bit death obsessed. Possibly in a good way, possibly not. He just considered it part of coping with the times.

“Yeah,” said Newton. “I mean, getting used to the idea of death, that’s kinda the purpose of life huh?”

“Well, that’s a bit reductive.”

“You’re right, let’s focus on the fact that we’re alive and here right now and I’m gonna eat SO many pancakes.” Newton tapped his hands on the table in excitement.

“Good, I really didn’t want to hear the details of how you get your—specimens, right before breakfast.”

“Ah right sorry.”

“Just don’t show me the teeth jar until after I’ve eaten.”

“Can do, it’s in the car anyway. Oh, fun fact on the teeth collection! Some of them are my teeth!”

“ _After_ we’ve eaten please Newton.”

“Right right sorry.”

After everything else they’d been through it felt both strange and completely normal to share a meal with Newton. He ate too fast and got syrup on his hands, then dropped his knife under the table. The sun was properly up now, the light had a steady distant quality to it. Newton chattered a bit but he was starting to rest his head in his hands by the end of the meal.

“Come on,” Hermann hurried him up, not wanting him to fall asleep in his chair. Pity the coffee didn’t work on Newton, Hermann felt like he wouldn’t sleep for a week.

Now that the journey was mostly over everything seemed to be moving very fast. They reached the airport, circled for a while trying to find the right concourse, then Newton stopped to let him off. He got out to open the trunk and see him off. He rubbed the side of his face, looking like he could fall asleep on his feet.

“See you in there I guess,” he said. Hermann thought his words were slurring a bit. He really shouldn’t be driving.

Newton got back in the car, leaving Hermann on the pavement.

No.

Newton was already starting to pull forward; he chased after the car and banged on the door with his cane. Newton jumped and stopped, looking at him with confusion. Hermann opened the door and slumped back into his seat, pulling his bag in with him and settling it in the seatwell.

“Mind if I catch a ride back with you? I don’t want you passing out on the way there.”

“Oh. I’m alright. I mean, yeah, thanks, you don’t have to.”

“I’m already inside,” said Hermann, closing the door.

“Okay. Uh, great, thanks.” Newton nodded. He really did look tired. If he crashed now and killed both of them it would be entirely Hermann’s fault for involving himself more than necessary. But hopefully that wouldn’t happen, because he was there to keep an eye on Newton. He turned the music up and asked how he got his collection of teeth, watched a bit of energy come back into his face as he talked about the cow skulls in the creekbed and searching the woods for dead animals. He wasn’t talking about kaiju, at least. Oh, too soon, now he was talking about how his fascination with earth biology bled into his obsession with alien biology; he was talking, so fast his words tumbled together, about the fascination of bone structure; how even from another world the Kaiju had skulls and spines and claws, recognizable forms but built with unknown substance; the very shape of their cells was different, the bone hard enough to chip rock when it was alive but, decaying rapidly like the rest of the kaiju’s body, slowly becoming porous and fragile. He was furious that they were allowing these bones to slowly deteriorate in the open rather than collecting them and trying to preserve them—each skeleton was one-of-a-kind, holding secrets that could not be found anywhere else on their planet; he didn’t see why no one wanted to bring the huge, ponderous bones of the monsters that had killed their friends and family indoors and use their limited resources to carefully construct a museum large enough to display them.

“Just about the only people who’re interested in that stuff are the snake oil salesmen who sell ground-up bone as the new essential oil business,” Newton complained. “There’s so much knowledge we could be getting from these bones and no one cares. Except the people hacking off bits to grind up and put in their coffee! Would not recommend, by the way. Yeah, most of the worst toxins are in the blood and that drains away pretty quickly with how fast their bodies break down but still, alien bone dust has NOT been evaluated as a food, I mean come on some crystals FROM OUR OWN PLANET are dangerous to have near food and this is from the body of an alien with toxic blood I’m in shock people have the guts to try it.”

“You don’t seem to mind getting close to kaiju remains,” said Hermann.

“Well no but I’m not putting them in my _mouth_! I use protection! I use common sense! I’m not gonna stick my bare hands in the kaiju blue I’m not gonna sprinkle fuckin kaiju bone dust on my chili fries, come ON people!”

Hermann noticed a seagull flying over them in the opposite direction and smiled. They were almost to the port. They hadn’t died. Yet. He shot a nervous glance at Newton, worried that he’d jinxed it, but he was awake, grinning even.

“You know what it says about alien biology that kaiju have recognizable brains? I mean sure they’re completely different but like, it’s there. It’s just amazing to think that even from the other side of the galaxy life develops in recognizable forms. They have blood, we have blood, we’re not so different. I mean, sure, their blood reacts horribly with everything in our world because it’s made of something completely different and it isn’t supposed to go here! I wonder what they think of human blood? If they even notice it, we must be so small to them. Like bug blood. Did you know bugs have blood? It’s clear because they don’t need red blood cells.”

They arrived. It was windy on the pier, with a constant echoing clatter of activity from freight being loaded. Hermann wondered what it was like to be a sailor now, with monsters coming from the bottom of the ocean. Every voyage was a gamble, with your life as the stakes, that you wouldn’t end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. But then, nowhere on earth was entirely safe. Perhaps it was better to bite the bullet and have the ocean where you could see it rather than trying not to think about it.

“Oh, fuck,” said Newton. “Oh no.” He’d opened the trunk to get his bags out and was just staring into it.

“What?”

“Uh, it was supposed to be empty. The car’s supposed to be empty or else you have to declare everything in it at customs and that’s a hassle. Oh boy. Okayyyyy, I can throw some of this out, I guess.” He pulled out the shovel and looked at it sorrowfully.

“Why do you have a shovel in there in the first place?”

“Moving roadkill. Burying roadkill. Digging up roadkill. Y’know, the usual stuff.”

“…Right, for your—vulturing?”

“Yep.”

Newton pulled out the “biohazard containment uwu” box and dug through it. Plastic bags, gloves, clear unscented dishwashing detergent, a brush, a smaller hand shovel. A plastic mesh laundry bag.

“Hate to get rid of this stuff but I doubt I’ll be doing much decomposition on base. Unless I can set up something in the lab!”

“ _Indoors_?”

“Relax I won’t do it unless I can figure out a sanitary method that won’t freak out my lab mates.”

“I’d hope so. …Newton, what’s the mesh bag for?”

“Oh! I was thinking if I could find a good spot I could hang something in a tree in that, let the bugs get to it while keeping it out of reach of the scavengers! Good idea but I didn’t get a chance to test it.” He sighed. “Someday. Hey, if I come out of this alive I’ll probably be rich enough to buy some land, which people will hopefully stay off of. Boy if anyone does trespass they are going to have a fun surprise.”

“Dead rabbits dangling from the trees?”

“Oh yeah.” He sighed, closed the box and chucked the whole thing in the garbage. “Someday!”

Hermann grimaced. “Maybe we’ll both die before then.”

“Dude, why are you saying that like it’s a good thing? Oh noooo it’s Stacy! I KNEW I forgot one!”

“What??”

Newton held up a shoebox with a sorrowful expression. The shoebox rattled softly.

“Stacy,” said Hermann blankly.

“Stray cat,” said Newton. “She was actually alive when I found her, I picked her up on a back road and brought her home but she was too badly hurt and she died that night. I think she was more comfortable than she would’ve been outdoors, at least. I got permission to leave her on my uncle’s property in a plastic crate with holes in the top and bottom and she turned out great. Bugs and natural decomposition are the best for cleaning off soft tissue.” He took off the lid of the box and shook the bones gently. A few were broken. “I was gonna save her with the others but I’d just picked her up and I forgot she was in the car I was too busy trying to pack the other stuff.”

Hermann couldn’t bring himself to tell Newton to throw away the dead cat.

“Is it… _legal_ to bring animal bones on an international flight?”

“Oh yeah sure if they’re clean. I just. I don’t know if I have anywhere to put them.”

“Well we’ve got to wait for our ride back, right? You can figure out where to put it after your car is ready to ship.”

“Ughhhghghhh. Right.” Newton carefully set the box on top of one of his bags, of which he had three. No, four, he took another out of the backseat. Surely he’d have room somewhere in there. In the meantime, he was scrambling around the car, digging more and more out of it. Hermann watched in horrified fascination as he unearthed a McDonalds bag and an empty kombucha bottle from under the seat where he’d been sitting not long before. He was rather glad he wasn’t getting back in there.

“There,” Newton took a half-step back and spread his hands—and nearly fell, when his heel landed on a coke can—he spun, picked it up and threw it away—“THERE we go. Empty, scoured, clean car for delivery.”

“If a kaiju doesn’t eat it en route,” said Hermann.

“Don’t SAY that, dude!” Newton walked around the car, closing all the doors, then leaned over it and kissed the roof. “See you on the other side good boy.” He gave it an affectionate pat then circled back around to where he’d set his bags down. “Now, Stacy.” He picked up the box and just held it for a while, looking back and forth between his bags, apparently trying to figure out where he could fit the cat bones. He mewed quietly. Hermann blinked at him in surprise. He didn’t appear to be aware of what he was doing, lost in thought. He mewed again, kneeling and digging through a duffel bag. Hermann wondered if that was how he talked to any living cats that he encountered. This was beyond surreal.

A seagull drifted close, beady eyes sizing him up for food. He gave it a dirty look and waved his cane at it when it didn’t immediately go away. No fries to steal here, sir. It glided away slowly with a final searching look, as if unconvinced. He wondered if Newton smelled like food. Wouldn’t be surprising given his messy habits.

Did seagulls know about the danger from the ocean? Did they care? Knowing the resilience of seagulls, they’d probably weather the apocalypse just fine.

“Uahrghdjs,” Newton grumbled, one of his bags exploded across his lap and the pavement. He carefully shook the cat bones out of the shoebox onto one of his shirts, which he wrapped around them, then tucked the bundle into the middle of the bag where it would be protected by the clothes around it and re-packed most of the rest of his stuff on top of it, with a lot of muttering and rearranging and frustrated noises. He finally got the bag closed by leaving out a thick black hoodie that he just couldn’t fit in, then looked around at his other bags, at a loss.

“I can carry that,” said Hermann. Newton blinked up at him as if he’d forgotten that he was there. “The jacket? If you don’t have room for it.”

“Oh wow thanks yeah I was about to throw it away but I don’t wanna throw it away.” He handed the hoodie over and Hermann was struck by how heavy and soft it was. Like a wearable weighted blanket. It was nice. Maybe he should get one. It wasn’t really his style, but he could wear it when he wasn’t going out. He folded Newton’s hoodie over his arm and resisted the urge to stroke the soft material.

Newton remained sitting on the ground until their uber arrived. Now he didn’t have to focus on driving he was visibly wilting, struggling to keep his head up. Hermann helped him get his bags into the car when it came, then sat in the back. After a few moments of double-checking everything Newton tumbled into the seat beside him, nearly headbutting him before straightening himself out and slumping into his seat. He started out sitting upright but his head kept falling forward, and he shifted around looking for something comfortable to lean on. Hermann passed him his hoodie and he folded it on the middle seat between them and slumped over, resting his head on it. He was asleep instantly, one hand curled under his chin and one dangling into the seatwell, strands of his tousled hair falling over Hermann’s thigh. He could have reached out and stroked them. He didn’t.

Newton was barely conscious for security and submitted to a pat-down seemingly without noticing, yawning while a gloved man checked his waistband for weapons. Hermann, to his chagrin, had to hang onto the counter and wait for security to verify that his cane wasn’t also some kind of lethal weapon. In the meantime he kept an eye on his hoodie, and all their bags, and reminded Newton to put his shoes back on. He didn’t bother to tie them until Hermann yelled at him.

“Geeez, ‘m fine, ‘s fine. Shut up.”

“You’re going to _trip_ ,” Hermann said, then watched in satisfaction as he groggily pulled his laces into messy knots. He almost forgot one of his bags when he got up.

They had about half an hour before boarding. Hermann was impressed that Newton had been so precise on the timing—he might have preferred to arrive a just a bit earlier, being paranoid about missing flights, but then, he would have been if he’d accepted Newton’s offer to let him off at the airport to begin with rather than coming with him on the last leg of the trip. But it had turned out just fine. They were on time, and Newton had really needed someone to keep an eye on him. He was currently drooping over the armrest of his seat as they waited near their gate, first slumping to one side and then the other, unable to find anything to lean on. He glanced at Hermann’s shoulder, then away. Hermann thought of telling him he could lean on him, but didn’t. That would be—no. Surely he’d be more comfortable just settling down in his seat.

Newton tumbled over the armrest and onto the floor with a half-awake grunt of surprise, then climbed back up into his chair where he immediately slumped forwards, head hanging straight down.

Hermann sighed.

“Newton. Newton?”

“Hmm.” He didn’t look up. Hermann offered him the hoodie, then folded it up against his shoulder. Newton slumped against it and sighed, his weight settling against Hermann’s side, head resting on his shoulder. His hair smelled of cheap shampoo, one of those ocean-y scents. That fit him.

He started to snore softly. Hermann _hated_ that he found that endearing rather than annoying. You’re hopeless, he told himself, sitting perfectly still so as not to disturb Newton. They weren’t quite touching, but he felt the subtle shift of weight each time he took a breath, and as time passed he could feel Newton’s body heat through the fabric of the hoodie.

He was surprised when they announced boarding. He’d lost all sense of time. He tried to gently shake Newton awake, then shoved him back into his seat with his cane when he didn’t respond. He awoke with a grunt and slurred something incomprehensible.

“What was that?”

“Did I drool on ya?” Newton pulled the hoodie closer to him and frowned at the wet patch on it. “Oh it’s just on the hoodie ok.”

“It had better be,” said Hermann, standing stiffly and stretching. “They’re boarding,” he coaxed when Newton didn’t move.

“Uh, first class.”

“Oh, you got the cheap tickets?”

“Yeah, uh, what’s even the point of first class?”

“It’s… marginally more comfortable. And this will be a long flight, I thought it was worth it to spend it in as little discomfort as possible.”

“Hm. Fair, I guess. They are paying us enough. Perks of saving the world huh? I’m not spending my money on first class tickets though. Not for a plane ride anyway.”

“What do you intend to spend it on? Surely not a functional vehicle.”

“Oh, hey, that’s a good point, I think it’s time for some repairs. I’m gonna make my car shiny as hell. I’ll be nice not to have to open the whole door to get McDonalds.” He grinned. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be boarding?”

Hermann nodded. “I’ll see you there.”

“Sure.”

He felt strangely alone and exposed as he got in line. It hadn’t been long, but already he felt comfortable in Newton’s presence. It was silly.

He waved at Newton as he walked past him to his seat, but he didn’t notice. He looked exhausted, eyes glued to the seat numbers as he shuffled forwards down the narrow aisle. Peeping after him Hermann saw him collapse into his seat and shut his eyes. Pity he didn’t have a neck pillow, but he did still have the (spit-covered) hoodie. He’d be fine.

The flight was tediously long, but nothing untoward happened, which was a relief after the morning he’d had. He started reviewing his notes and almost slipped into a trance, managing to pass the time for a few hours at least. He was stiff and sore and developing a headache by the time they landed, but he’d had worse. And they were _there_. Actually arrived. He triple-checked his notes and his bag in a sudden rush of nerves. Was Newton still asleep? He couldn’t see him when he looked. He’d just have to catch up.

He exited the plane and moved to the side to wait for Newton, and he’d just about managed to calm down when _Marshall Pentecost himself, in person_ , appeared and asked how his flight had been. Hermann straightened up with a rapidity that hurt something in his back and sputtered some banal answer. Marshall Pentecost was even more imposing in person, wow, he was tall. What do you say to a man like that? Do you talk about the weather?? Fortunately Newton appeared before he could start idiotically babbling.

“Oh hey guys,” he shuffled up and dropped two of his bags, squeaking in dismay. Hermann inched closer to him, relieved to have him back.

“How was your flight, Newton?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh I dunno, I guess I slept most of it? Sure did something to my neck, sheesh.” He stretched, lifting a hand to rub his neck. Hermann attempted to stop one of his bags from toppling over onto the floor with his cane, but gave up rather than sacrifice his own balance.

“You two are getting along, then,” said Marshall Pentecost. Hermann looked up in surprise, suddenly realizing how close he was standing to Newton. “I’m glad,” said Pentecost, “I’ll admit I wasn’t sure how well you two would be able to work together.”

“Oh we can’t stand each other,” Hermann smiled. “But I think we’ll be able to make it work.” Newton’s shoulder brushed his as he adjusted his backpack.

Marshall Pentecost looked between them and—did he _almost_ smile? “Good to hear it. Now, if you’re ready?”

“Yes _sir_ ,” said Hermann.

**Author's Note:**

> What country is this in? America? Germany? Good question I have no idea.  
> I have only had Monster once and Bang twice but I used to buy Nos from the campus vending machines on the way to morning classes I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stay awake for when I was in college so yeah Newton’s reviews of energy drinks are actually my reviews of energy drinks and this works because I, too, have ADHD and respond weirdly to caffeine.  
> note on the note: in the time between starting this fic and finishing it, my parents got most of the issues with my car FIXED?? NOW it just makes horrible creaking noises when I turn the wheel and the, the plastic guard thing over the slot where you put the key in the ignition fell off BUT the drivethrough window works and much more importantly the windshield wipers work (previously they were kinda sorta working and I’d just drive my mom’s car to work if it was rainy; they finally properly Broke in dramatic fashion in a rainstorm while I was trying to drive my parents home from the airport in my car and my mom was like WE’RE FIXING THIS) and my dad managed to figure out where the mysterious water in the bottom was coming from and stop the leak after months of multiple people being unable to figure it out. I also had my 2nd bang bc it was trans pride colors and I was having a crisis and I wanted to feel something (I did feel something! The something was heart palpitations on top of continued fatigue!) and moved out which is borderline incomprehensibly freeing (mom thanks for funding car repairs I am very grateful but not thanks for the c-ptsd) but I kept the Newt Shitty Car Disease bc its funny and works in the story (also for Pacific Rim timeline a 2001 car would be even older I think) Anyway  
> I was? I was going somewhere with this?  
> Oh yeah the “guy backs into my car” story is a lived experience as well. It was at a drive through. I didn’t even buy anything. I decided not to and was waiting to pull out of line when the only other guy in line, the guy in front of me, rather than pull ahead leaving me comfortable room to move out, instead just sloooowly backed right into my car, the only other car in the goddamn parking lot.  
> I hope you can see from these author notes the Effort which goes into making borderline comprehensible fanfics.  
> Oh yeah hey so It’s The End Of The World As We Know It!! Came on the radio back in March when the Pandemic was first being A Big Thing. Uh, that’s what that was from. It actually hasn’t really played since, I think we’re experiencing apocalypse fatigue and don’t want to be reminded that it’s still ongoing. Donald Trump is not actually in the lyrics by the way, but one part really sounds like it, and I’d like to nominate him as an apocalyptic event  
> Godzilla reminds me of a college friend playing the song for me on a drive, he was The Guy With The Car for a couple years before I could steal my roommate’s car (and then again after her parents told her not to let other people drive it because of insurance coverage reasons)… absolutely unfathomable nostalgia I didn’t even know who I was back then. He had a favorite Nirvana album he’d play when driving me to or from the airport for breaks when I returned home. Why do I feel like crying. It’s all so much softer when you look back, separated from how you actually felt at the time. It’s just… I was alive then. I have memories.  
> there’s literally no reason for me to come here and expose my entire ass and soul to the general internet in the notes why am I doing this should I find a proper therapist should I start writing poetry again


End file.
